Work Text:
“Hollander.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ilya sat in the middle of his couch wondering where he went wrong. He practiced asking Shane to stay for three days before he actually set foot in Boston. He spent hours at the store getting ingredients that would work with his strict diet. He took way too long contemplating over whether he should get bottled or canned ginger ales. Then Shane was finally here and it took Ilya more than an hour to actually ask him to stay. When Shane agreed to stay, Ilya's heart almost opened right then and there. Holding Shane in his arms as he slept, watching how his breaths come in and out and hearing his soft sleep noises was nice. Almost too nice. Ilya hasn’t ever had a connection with someone like he does with Shane. It made him think dangerous things like if Shane felt the same as he did or if hiding was truly worth it. If he actually wanted to be the second best player in the league or if it was just a way to escape Russia for good. He jokes he is the best player in the league, but he knows it's actually Shane. As much as he likes to give him shit for being the second draft pick, he’s always known Shane is the best.
Ilya wanted him to open up. He could tell it was all a little much for Shane, so he did his best to make him comfortable. Talking about hockey, other players, favorite places to go on the road. Curiosity got the best of him because he started to ask about women. Ilya had also let it slip that he liked him. To cover his ass he made it sexual. Sex was comfortable, Ilya being in love with his rival was not. Then his father called and Shane knew. Of course he had no idea what was being said, but when Shane asked about him his heart stopped. He was quickly brought back down to earth at the realization that the Russian word for father was no different than English. Then Shane snuggled him. Actually snuggled him. Ilya couldn't help but to run his fingers through Shane's thick dark hair and take in the smell of his expensive shampoo. He could have done that forever. They could have skipped sex for the rest of his visit and Ilya would have been satisfied. In that moment he knew he could live an eternity without sex if he could be close to Shane. Passion doesn't have to be sex, it could also be beautiful freckles and strict diet plans.
Surprisingly, it was Shane who initiated the act this time. Ilya was surprised at his willingness, but even more surprised at his dirty talk. “You gonna cum for me Rozanov.”
“Fucking make me” Ilya growled back. Ilya had no problem doing most of the work in the bedroom, but Shane sitting in his lap taking him apart was life changing. It felt so good, his head was spinning and it took everything in him to not mutter how much he loved the man undoing him. Something accidentally slipped past his defenses. It was small and to most people would mean nothing. To the two of them however, it was more. But it was just a name. Something Shane’s been called his entire life. It wouldn't be a big deal if one more person decided to start using it. Then Shane said Ilya's name back, and that sealed the deal. Ilya was done for. Shane Hollander won the race, he finally defeated his rival. But Shane didn't see it that way. Instead of pulling forward and riding this high together, Shane pulled back. He was panicking and Ilya didn’t want him to go, but he didn't want to scare him even more. “Hollander” See, it’s fine. I take it back, it doesn’t have to be a thing. “Hollander” please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.
Ilya finally placed his hand back down at his sides and snapped back into reality. He grabbed his phone and checked the time. He wasn’t going to just sit here and sulk, there was a whole day left, he could easily find something to do. Shane left at the beginning of the second period of the game they were watching. The second period started at 1. It was 4:45. He's been sitting here wallowing in thought for almost 4 hours. “Fuck me.” he whispered. Ilya began to peel himself away from the couch, his eyes continuing to linger on the space Shane disappeared from. He clicked off the television which was now playing highlights from the game they were supposed to have watched together. Secretly Ilya couldn't wait to hear Shane's ramblings about how the teams could have executed their plays or how they could have clicked better. He loved it, Shane's nose would get all scrunched up and his brows would pinch together as he passionately described in detail everything that could have been. Ilya wondered if Shane did the same things when thinking about what they have, about what they could be if they weren't so scared. Ilya moved to the kitchen and began to wash the dishes left in the sink from lunch. His plate was a mess, crumbs and leftover tuna bits everywhere. Shanes was the opposite, almost as if he licked it clean. After clearing the sink Ilya sulked back into the living room and straightened up his couch. The cushion he was leaning on still has a deep impression from where he was sitting lost in thought. As he fluffed the cushion back to normal, his phone buzzed nearby. Hoping it was who he wanted it to be, Ilya quickly picked up the phone.
“Hello.” he said weakly
“Roz! What are you doing tonight brother? Don’t care, you're coming out tonight!” Cliff Marleau said on the other end. Ilya's shoulders sagged back down “No, not tonight Marly, I’m-” He looked back to the spot Shane stood before he left “I can’t- I can’t do this.” Ilya shook away the memory. “I’m not feeling up to it right now.”
“Montreal Jane problems?” Cliff asked. Ilya ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “All the more reason for you to come out brother. Come on! You're Ilya Rozanov, twenty minutes and you’ll forget all about her!” Cliff was wrong. It would take more than twenty minutes to undo what eight years of Shane Hollander has done to his heart. “Rozy you've got an hour and then I'm coming over, deal?” Ilya weighed his options. He could sit in this glass jar of painful memories wondering what could have been. Imagining what Shane looked like while peacefully sleeping overnight, his face relaxed and free of his anxieties. If he looked just as effortless in the morning as he did any other time he got to see him. If over breakfast Ilya could have finally worked up the courage to tell Shane how he truly felt. That it wasn’t just about liking trouble or being sneaky anymore. He wasn’t getting off on the thrill. That it’s just Shane and has only been him for a long time now.
Ilya could do that or get wildly drunk and bring home a beautiful woman to help him forget why he was sad in the first place. “Fine,” he said. “Fuck yeah man! Okay I'll be there in an hour!” Ilya quickly hung up the call and threw his phone back on the cushions.
After a long, drawn out shower, Ilya stood in his bedroom wrapped in a towel. He looked around his room. It wasn't too bad, the bed was a little messed up from previous activities but everything else was tidy. He threw on some boxers and started to work. He fluffed out the sheets and smoothed them over his bed. He turned to grab the blanket from the floor and froze. A pile in the chair across the room caught his eye. Slowly he dragged his feet over to the pile and finally made out what it was. A perfectly folded,neat pile of clothes. A white shirt and jeans paired with a yellow jacket. Shane's outfit from earlier in the day.What he was wearing when he came to Ilya's house that morning. The realization hits him like a truck. Shane had fled so fast he didn't stop to assess himself. He ran away inadvertently taking a piece of Ilya with him.
Ilya kneeled in front of the chair and picked up the jacket. He brought it up to his face and took a deep inhale. The scent hit his nose and washed him in memories. Not just of today, but from every moment before. The joy on their faces as they battled on the ice. Feeling Shane's fingertips graze over his skin and tracing pathways between his moles. Watching Shane's freckles dance as he spoke. Every kiss and touch on replay. Ilya had managed so far, keeping whatever these feelings for Shane just under the surface. Until now, he was perfectly composed. But this broke the dam within him. Shane Hollander was a disease Ilya wanted no cure for. Ilya brought the entire pile of Shane up to his chest and sobbed onto them. The weight of the past eight years crashing back into him. Back home, he was punished for showing signs of weakness. Beaten until submission to cause scarring that made him tough. He came to the NHL cold and closed off, only seeking an escape from home. But Shane, his Shane, cracked him wide open. He tore through each wall and erased every scar. The fear of being himself was washed away with every freckled kiss. Ilya would have given up his entire life for Shane. Fuck the bears, the NHL, his coke hungry brother and demented father. He would have barricaded that door closed if it meant Shane was his for good. Ilya crashed to the floor, his chest heaving as he cried. The last time he’s cried this hard, he had just found his Mama. Both times he lost someone he loved, except this time, one of them is still breathing. “My Shane, please come back.” He cried.
“Roz?” Cliff's voice traveled lightly through the bedroom. Ilya whipped his head around. Fuck. Has it been an hour already? Cliff had the code to the door, as much shit as Ilya gave him Cliff was his best friend. His house was just as much as his as it was Ilyas. Ilya wiped at his eyes and pushed himself to his knees. “I'm sorry, I just- I don’t.” he looked back to the pile of clothes now crumpled on the floor. Ilya began to panic. He was ruining his clothes, Shane would really never forgive him now. He quickly snatched them up “No, I can’t ruin this too. I am sorry I cannot-”
“Roz breathe brother, just breathe.” Cliff said, lowering himself to Ilya's level.
“No you don’t understand! He doesn’t like it when it's crumpled like this. It must be folded neatly.”
“Who Roz?”
“Shane!” Ilya yelled. He lowered his head and felt his bottom lip tremble “My shane” he said weakly. Cliff didn’t hesitate. He wrapped both arms around Ilya and pulled him into the tightest hug possible. “I’m sorry Ilya. I'm so sorry.” he whispered. Ilya continued to cry into Cliff's chest, gripping his shoulders and squeezing. “He left me, my Shane he's gone.”
After what felt like hours of crying, Ilya's breaths began to even out again. He slowly pulled away from Cliff and sat back on the floor. Silence wrapped around them as they stared at the pile of clothes. Without any hesitation, Cliff picked up the shirt from the pile and started to carefully fold it back up. He moved with grace as he continued to fold each piece of clothing and set them back on the chair. “So, Jane is-”
“I know you must hate me now.” Cliff stared at him stunned. “What? Why would I hate you?” Cliff asked. “Because I am,” Ilya gestured towards the clothes “My jane is…a man”
“Why would that make me hate you?” Ilya shrugged his shoulders. Cliff positioned himself in front of Ilya and grasped his knee. “I don’t care that you like men. You're my brother man, if anything, I'm more upset you felt like you had to hide this from me.”
“You do not care?” Ilya questioned.
“Hell no dude.” Ilya cracked a smile and shook away the last of his tears. “So Jane," Cliff said with a smile. “Jane is….Shane?”
“Yes.”
“And he lives in Montreal?” Ilya could feel where this conversation was going. “Yes.”
“And he just so happens to be here at the same time another very famous Shane is here in Boston." Ilya ran a hand over his face. “Please don’t say anything. I don’t care about people knowing but he is…he is scared. Metros would not be so nice to him and he deserves, nice.” Cliff nods. “Of course I won't say anything. So you guys are dating?”
“No no it's just, well it was just…..”
“Sex?” Cliff questioned. “Yes.” Cliff lowered his eyes again and looked at the pile once more. “Can I say something bold?” Ilya snorted “I just accidentally came out to you, nothing you say will be that crazy.” Cliff half smiled and grabbed Ilya's hand “Are you sure it's just sex? I don’t know anything about you two obviously but it seems you must feel more for him than just a casual fuck buddy.” Ilya pondered this then nodded once sadly. “Have you told him how you felt?” Ilya’s mind replayed moments from the day. Shane's little laugh, the way he fell asleep so effortlessly on Ilya's arm, his head cuddled into Ilya's chest. “No,” Ilya said. “Would you tell him? I mean have you ever thought about being more than just sex with him?” Flashes of moments from before today flicker in Ilya's mind. Vegas hotel rooms, presenting awards, various all stars games, the CCM shoot. “I have.”
“Would you want to be more, if you could?” Ilya goes back to that day in 2008. Pink cheeks splattered with freckles and a warm smile. “Yes.” Ilya whispered. “If we could, if he would let me, I would be everything for him. I would do anything for him. He could ask me to paint the moon red and I would buy most luxurious spaceship to get up there. He has been more than just sex for a long time. I think maybe the whole time? Everytime I see him all I want to think about is the future. Cute freckled children chasing after dogs in a huge backyard. The kind of future I believe my mother would have wanted for me if she could have escaped my father. I want a future I did not know I could have until I met him. And I don’t think I’ll ever be happy unless it is him I have it with.”
July 2021
“Those vows seemed awfully familiar Rozy.”
“Shut your face Marly.”